


You Trip I Catch You (We Fall Together)

by madeofbees



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adorable Bruce Banner, Awkward Bruce Banner, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, Bruce Banner Needs a Hug, Bruce Feels, But it'll all work out, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Everything's Eventual, Gay Bruce Banner, M/M, Poor Bruce, Shy Bruce Banner, Tony Being Tony, Tony cannot not meddle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-13 12:59:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5709073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madeofbees/pseuds/madeofbees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce is overwhelmed. He's overwhelmed by the number of people, the lights, the sounds, the specific person who he ca't get out of his mind (or his line of sight, as Tony so helpfully points out). Spending the night in the lab is a much better decision than trying not to go to pieces over a certain someone--or at least it seems that way, until Tony shows up, poking and prodding at things better left unsaid.</p><p>Until Bruce accidentally outs himself over the com system, broadcasting the semi-cryptic statement <i>I love him</i> throughout Avenger headquarters.</p><p>Until maybe, just maybe, he might not be the only one with feelings.</p><p>--</p><p>Bruce/Steve fluffy!awkward fic set between the first Avengers movie and Winter Soldier feat. meddlesome!Tony, helpful!Natasha, oblivious!Clint, and obvious!Thor. Tags and rating to be added/go up as needed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Trip I Catch You (We Fall Together)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi wow I publish sometimes :O
> 
> I make no promises re: publishing. There won't be a schedule. There won't necessarily be more chapters. It'll be a major miracle if I actually end up finishing this. I do, however, promise a happy ending! For what that's worth. Which is not a whole lot given what I just said...

Bruce Banner should have known better than to go to a party at Tony’s. Not that he didn’t like parties, or ones thrown by his over-the-top friend (over-the-top instead of garish, friend instead of stand still while I punch you), but it had been a long week. A long series of weeks. Months, really, if he was being honest with himself, because ever since he’d come back from Calcutta, everything had been so…

Loud.

Bright.

People, everywhere, all the time.

Tony, specifically, in his face, nonstop, talking about eight projects at once.

Visitors, too, a seemingly never ending stream, ranging from Pepper (who was always good to see, she understood the concept of an indoor voice, quiet time, a cup of tea, and did she live here?, which wasn’t sarcastic, he honestly didn’t know), to businessmen he avoided to people who came in the middle of the night that Tony assured him were just flying in from a different time zone but Bruce still kept his distance from, to other Avengers popping in for lunch, a consultation, to raid the liquor cabinet; Steve—who lived in the city—and despite not getting along with Tony seemed to be around an awful lot for someone who wasn’t a scientist and it was making Bruce edgy and in fact—

In fact he was here tonight, Steve Rodgers, Captain fucking America in all his star spangled glory (a suit, actually, he was wearing a suit, but he’d found a tailor since waking up, or maybe he innately knew how to dress in the most unintentionally provocative way possible, Bruce wasn’t sure), and maybe that was why Bruce was hiding on the seventh floor of R&D, tinkering with the handful of wires he’d grabbed from the spare parts bin as he’d stomped around the room, overly loud movements echoing in the empty labs.

He wasn’t angry.

He was angry, but.

Okay, he was infuriated, because Steve had the most ridiculous mouth, pouty and plush and kissable, and when he rested the edge of the champagne flute against his lower lip, the edges of Bruce’s vision started to turn green.

Over a fucking _boy_.

One of the wires Bruce was holding ripped, and he let out a grunt of anger and frustration and pent up things he didn’t want to think about, but he took a deep breath and he was okay. Angry, but okay. He removed the wire with practiced ease and rethreaded a new one in its place, recreating the wrecked circuit.

“That’s all I do,” he muttered under his breath. “Fix what I broke in the first place.” He let out a quiet, bitter laugh. “Maybe it’s time I get back to Calcutta.”

“Oh but not now, not when things are getting so interesting.”

Bruce started, the stainless steel stool screeching against the tiled floor as he turned to see Tony standing in the doorway. “What’re you doin’ here?” he asked, pushing his glasses up his nose. “You’re not the type to run out on your own party.”

“Neither are you,” Tony replied. “At least not lately, not when a certain someone is in attendance.”

Bruce turned back to his wires. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” The words sounded stiff and fragile to his own, untrained ear; he couldn’t imagine what his hyper observant friend would pick up. “I’m working on a solution for the—the misfirings you’ve been having when you land, the sparks by your boots. I think it’s just a misplaced wire.”

“Right, that’s why I fixed it three days ago, when I first noticed it,” Tony shot back. He paused. “Okay, two days ago, when it almost set me on fire. But still, it’s fixed. You’re hoping to electrocute yourself so you won’t have to talk to the aforementioned certain someone.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Bruce muttered. “The other guy wouldn’t let me.” He shook himself. “That’s not the point. I didn’t know it was fixed.” He stood, stretched, and tossed the wires back in with the rest of the scraps. “There were too many people, alright? It was loud, crowded, too much happening at once. You throw Gatsby parties. I needed a break. I thought you of all people would understand.”

A brief look of compassion flashed across Tony’s face before determination set in. “Fine, then. So you won’t mind coming back down now that everyone’s left except us good guys. We’ve got Thor, Nat, Clint, you, me, and—hmm, am I forgetting someone? I feel like I’m forgetting someone.”

“Wouldn’t know, not my party.” Bruce shouldered past him. “It’s late. I’m tired. I think I’m just gonna head to bed. It’s been great, really.”

“It’s barely even midnight!”

Christ, had it gotten that late? Bruce had slipped out a little past nine, no more than half an hour after _someone_ had shown up, and all he had to show for it was a handful of crumpled wires no different from the rest of the scraps. Pathetic.

“Barely even past my bedtime,” he replied with a shrug, reaching the elevators and pressing the down button. “Be sure to send my love.”

“Ah, but to who?”

Bruce closed his eyes. Why was the elevator taking so long? It should still be here from Tony’s arrival, unless he’d sent it all the way to the ground floor before getting out. Then again, knowing him, he probably had.

“Everyone, Tony. My friends. Tell my friends I love them. Or don’t, I don’t know, since you seem to have some sort of idea about I don’t know who—or what, really, which is terrifying—so maybe it’s best if you just don’t say anything.” _Not that you know how to do that_ , he added silently.

“I think it’s cute,” Tony said, bouncing up on the balls of his feet. “Sweet, actually. At first I thought it’d be you and Nat—Fury thought so too, that’s why he sent her to get you in the first place, guess we both got the gender wrong—but no, this is better. This makes sense. It kinda makes a guy wonder, though. How long have you been nursing this little infatuation? Because I mean, if that’s why you stuck yourself, then—”

“No! God, Tony, no, how could you even think that?” Anger, bubbling up, threatening at the seams, and Bruce clenched his hands into fists. “That wasn’t—it had _nothing_ —”

Tony’s hands flew up, palms out. His eyes were wide and innocent as he said, “Whoa there big guy, I didn’t mean anything by it, I just wanted to see how you’d react. Don’t you think I know you better than that?”

Bruce forced a hand to relax, flexing his fingers out before letting it fall at his side. The other stayed clenched. “You think you know a guy.” His voice was guarded. “A-and I’m not— _infatuated_ with—with _Steve_. God. How much have you had to drink?”

Tony snorted, dropping his hands. “A little less convincing this time, you might wanna work on that. I might be the only one who’s noticed so far—and I did say might, Clint and Thor are thick as the doors of a Swiss bank vault, but Nat, she’s a sharp one—but that’s not gonna last forever, especially the way you’re going.”

Bruce was torn. Denial didn’t seem to be working, but it was what he’d promised himself he’d do, what the plan was, and plans helped. With the other guy. Besides, did he really want Tony knowing? If he was this annoying now, he’d be infinitely worse if it was confirmed. They lived together; he was technically homeless, running from Tony meant really running, and if Tony knew, that’d be the only way to get any peace.

On the other hand, what exactly did Tony mean by “the way you’re going”? Was he doing something wrong? Was he being obvious? That was unacceptable, completely unacceptable, and if it was true, it needed to be fixed immediately. The only way to fix it, of course, would be to know what it was. And the only way to do that…

…Would be to ask Tony.

In the end, self-preservation won.

“W-what do you mean?” he stammered. “The way I’m going? Going where?”

Tony laughed, and it was only then that he pressed the down button, something that didn’t escape Bruce’s notice. “Oh Brucey, you have so much to learn.”

“Don’t call me that,” Bruce muttered irritably. “And why did you press the elevator button again? I already did.”

“I told Jarvis not to have the elevator respond until I called for it,” Tony replied smoothly as the doors slid open. “You needed to get this off your chest before you, y’know, became all chest. And arms. And muscles. And destruction. It’s better this way. Healthier. Better for your blood pressure, too.”

Bruce stared at him, silently fuming, before following him into the elevator. What good did it do to be angry? It was out now, sort of, and whether or not Tony was right, what’s done was done.

He’d leak the video he’d taken of a sleeping and snoring Tony passed out at his work station in revenge. Genius billionaire playboy philanthropist or not, drool wasn’t exactly in vogue.

“Right. So. Something about me going?” Bruce asked, shoving his hands into his pockets and staring at the ceiling.

“If you want to keep this thing a secret, you have got to tone down the staring,” Tony said bluntly. “Start with that. If you can manage to control your eyes, we’ll go from there.”

Bruce gaped. “Go—go from there? There’s more?”

Tony laughed again, somewhere between a giggle and a snort. “It’s such a precious time in a young boy’s life when he finally starts to notice other young men. Yes, dummy, there’s more. But really, I don’t think—”

“No, you don’t,” Bruce interrupted. His heart was slamming, hands shaking, face turning redder by the second (or was it green?), flashes of green dancing across his vision. His brain was screaming at him to get himself together, but panic was setting in, and that was when things got bad. He grabbed hold of one of the elevator’s railings, and the cool metal helped.

For now.

“Tony, he’s my—my friend,” he said, words coming out pleading, hating himself for it. “He can’t know, okay? I thought—I thought I was doin’ okay, I thought he wouldn’t know, I didn’t think I—but if I’m not hidin’ it, I need you to tell me. Specifically.” He looked at Tony, forcing himself to make eye contact and ignore the voice in his head ( _tiny Banner puny Banner pathetic Banner smash Banner smash smash smash Banner_ ), and said, “Please.”

Tony squirmed. Just the tiniest bit, but Bruce saw, and in his self-pitying state, it only added fuel to the fire. _Make them all hate me while I’m at it, why not? Not just a monster but a disgustingly pitiful one at that._

“You stutter a lot,” Tony said suddenly. “Around Steve. The staring, it’s not so bad, because it’s just when we’re in a group, and I don’t think he notices, it’s just everyone else who’s gonna pick up on that. But if you’re going to forget how to say hi every time he smiles at you, he _will_ want to know why. You, uh, blush, sometimes. When he comes to your defense, which he does a lot. Have you noticed that, by the way, how often he does that? I’ve started putting you down just to see him come to your rescue. The faces he makes—it’s a good thing he wouldn’t actually punch me, or else he’d definitely punch me.

“By the way, when are you going to tell him?”

Bruce laughed breathlessly, still trying to process everything he’d been told and keep the other guy at bay. “Uh, yeah, not gonna happen.”

Tony frowned. “And why not?”

Bruce shook his head. “I’m not—no. We’re not havin’ that conversation. It’s not happening.”

“He comes to your defense,” Tony said, as if that solved everything.

Bruce took a deep breath. “I know he does. He’s that sort of a guy. I’m very, painfully aware of what kind of guy he is. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“He doesn’t come to my defense,” Tony added, and a chuckle forced itself out of Bruce’s throat.

“Yeah, well, I wonder why.” He glanced around the elevator. “Why haven’t we gotten to my floor yet?”

“Oh, we have,” Tony replied. “But you’re not getting off until…” Bruce held out his hand so Tony could see the green slowly coming to life along his veins. “Until right now,” he finished quickly, pressing a button. The doors slid open. “I do what I do to help.”

“There’s no helpin’ me,” Bruce said as he trudged into the hallway. “Not about this, not that way.”

“Maybe he likes you back,” Tony suggested. “I mean, have you considered the option?”

“I don’t like him,” Bruce called back because it was true, because considering the option was too painful.

“Well I’ve considered it,” Tony told him. “And I think—”

“I don’t want to know what you think,” Bruce interrupted, turning to face him. “Tony, I really don’t. I know you don’t like to listen to me, but just this once, be a friend, and—”

“I think he likes you,” Tony said, looking incredibly proud of himself.

Bruce stalked forward. He saw the flash of fear in Tony’s eyes and ignored it; he was safe, the other guy wasn’t going to come out, but he didn’t mind if once, just once, Tony Stark was knocked off his game.

“I don’t care what you think,” he said quietly, voice calm and even. “I don’t care if you think he likes me, because he doesn’t. I don’t want to hear Tony Stark’s Patented 1001 Ways To Get Your Man, because I’m not trying to get him. I’m fine without him. I’m—I’m okay.” That was a huge lie, and it was easy to see from the sadness etched in Tony’s face that he knew it. “I’m okay,” Bruce repeated. He shifted, resting his hand on the wall and leaning into the elevator, into Tony’s space. “I love him, and—”

Tony’s eyes widened. Bruce’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. There was a strange quality to his voice, an echoing, that he didn’t understand.

“What just—”

It happened again, and it sounded like his voice was coming from everywhere, and somewhere way in the back of his mind he thought he might understand, but it couldn’t be.

“Buddy, you’re gonna want to move your hand,” Tony said quietly. “Don’t freak out on me, just move your hand, okay?”

Bruce jumped back like he’d been electrocuted. “C-com, there—there’s a com—com button on the—I had my hand on the com button and he—”

Tony was out of the elevator and at his side, one hand on his bicep, squeezing tightly, the other somewhere Bruce couldn’t see (reaching for a gun, for the com button on purpose to call for help, who knew). “He didn’t hear anything,” he said calmly, assuredly. “Nobody has any idea who you’re talking about. Hell, they probably didn’t even recognize your voice. Like you said, it’s late, we’ve been drinking, it was out of nowhere. There’s no reason anyone would associate that with you, and even if they did, nothing about it had anything to do with him.”

Bruce could feel Tony’s hand, and his words made sense, but everything came through a fog. _I love him_. He’d said _I love him_ and it had been broadcast through the building, through the building where, somewhere, at this very moment, Steve Rogers was existing. Steve Rogers had heard him say _I love him_. Maybe (definitely) he didn’t know that it was about him, but Steve Rogers had heard.

Bruce had lived behind a cloak of non-sexuality. He wouldn’t have minded, in theory, if the others knew he was gay, but gay was one step closer to knowing about Steve, and so he’d distanced himself from everything sexual. He didn’t join in when the others talked or made jokes, he ducked questions whenever asked about his love life, let them assume he wasn’t interested in anyone, ever, period. Now, and now, now, that was gone, that was broadcasted away across the com, now _I love him_ had been heard by all his friends, all the Avengers, by Steve Rogers.

Now they would ask questions. Now they would joke and poke and prod. Now they would wheedle it out of him the way Tony had. Now—

“Bruce? Are you with me? Are we having a Code Green?”

“No.” The word was so clear that it surprised Bruce as much as it did Tony, if not more. “No, I’m good.” He shook his arm free and took a few steps back. It wouldn’t be long at all before Steve knew. Before everything was gone. “I’m fine. I’m, ah. I’m just gonna go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

 _I just lost my best friend_ , Bruce thought as he walked to his room. _No, that’s not even true. I just lost the man I wish was my best friend. Pathetic._


End file.
